There was no street clock visible from here, and Gabrielle had never been adept at telling the time of day by the position of the sun. Now, she wished she’d paid closer attention to that particular lesson her tutor once tried to teach. It didn’t matter; she doubted she could have focused enough to guess the time anyway.
And Eric promised he’d be here at noon, so she had no reason to leave her position.
Gabrielle’s foot tapped anxiously as she waited for him. The moments stretched out before her, and she began to fear Theodore would find her before Eric did. Had the man she saw yesterday really been Eric? Or had the conversation she remembered only been her mind playing elaborate tricks on her?
She so desperately wanted this to be real, wanted him to be. Perhaps she’d conjured Eric before her, and the face had been someone else. That thinking was foolish; who else could she have had such a conversation with other than Eric? A stranger who had somehow known what to say?
Shaking her head at her foolishness, she dismissed her paranoia. She’d seen Eric; that had most definitely been him she spotted yesterday afternoon. And even as the sun rose higher in the clear blue sky, she knew he’d arrive momentarily. And want her again.
Tears slipped unbidden down her cheeks as she thought of the time they’d been apart, the trials they had all suffered. Would Eric be the same man she once knew? And André, was André still with him? Or had her beloved perished? Questions filled her head and would not let her rest until they were answered.
“I wanted to grab you and run.” Eric’s voice washed over her.
Overjoyed, Gabrielle whirled to face him. She took a step forward, wanted to run into his arms and kiss him. Wanted to feel his strong hands hold her, his hard body pressed close to hers.
A horse neighed, a woman shouted. Gabrielle stumbled after the first step. Quickly lowering her head, she tried desperately to compose herself before someone noticed her reaction, saw them in the park and reported them to the police.
Unable to tame her smile, she looked up at Eric again. His warm blue eyes caressed her and his brown hair blew in the wind. She wanted to run her fingers through it, feel its softness again.
Somewhat composed, Gabrielle took a cautious step forward. She didn’t want to appear overeager, but she desperately needed to be closer to him. Clasping her hands before her, fingers locked tight to keep from touching him, she took another moment to simply take him in.
“I would have run with you,” she admitted.
Eric appeared to be alone; André hadn’t accompanied him. Gabrielle looked around again, but she didn’t see her tall, black-haired lover.
“What of…André?” Her voice broke on his name, the first time in two years she’d asked after him and knew she’d receive an honest response.
Gabrielle gripped her fingers tighter, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She blinked against her tears, and met Eric’s gaze.
“Mademoiselle,” he said in a clear tone that shook her more than the simple term should have. “Please, allow me to show you to my shop.”
Eric silently guided her across the street, not speaking further. He didn’t touch her, nor did he look at her as they walked side-by-side down the walkway. No one watched them, at least not overtly, and Gabrielle appreciated Eric’s restraint in not touching her. In recalling where they were and that, to the outside gaze, they were, indeed, strangers.
Police spies lurked at every corner, waited in every shop storefront. It was impossible to be too careful.
The distant roar of the crowds jarred her. Gabrielle stumbled as memory washed over her; she’d almost forgotten about those sounds. The screams of delight as another noble or suspected Royalist died beneath Madame Guillotine. She shuddered as the cries rolled over the streets, but didn’t pause and didn’t look at the other pedestrians walking down the busy avenues.
Instead, she blocked out the cheering crowds, the memory of that filthy prison. The rats, the constant hunger and despair. Gabrielle shook her head and raised her chin. That part of her life lay firmly buried in the past. Today, with the sun shining brightly down on her, with her lover beside her, Gabrielle thought only on that. Only on her future. On Eric.
The guillotine must have been busy today, Gabrielle thought with some bitterness. It usually was these days. She hadn’t heard it before now. Unsurprising, she supposed, given how focused she’d been on this meeting. Anticipation had blocked everything save Eric from her thoughts.
As they continued down the curved Rue de Fleur, her mind raced with possibilities. However, Gabrielle knew they needed the privacy to speak openly. It didn’t stop her from worrying what Eric might tell her.
Did André wait for them in this shop? She dared not raise her hopes.
The small millinery lay deserted when they entered. Eric merely nodded at the grey haired proprietress who was diligently weaving a ribbon through an ivory hat and ushered Gabrielle into the back. Curious, worried, and wrestling to maintain what little control she had left, Gabrielle followed him past piles of ribbons and cloth.
Eric paused before a door, and took her elbow. The first time he touched her. Gabrielle’s blood raced at the familiar feel of him. Before she let herself fully accept his touch, Eric opened the door.
André stood inside the small storage room.
Gabrielle wanted to race forward and embrace André. She wanted to touch him, kiss him; wanted to do the same to Eric. Dazed, speechless, her knees weakened as two years of strictly held emotions flooded free.
Eric’s strong hands gripped her about the waist, holding her steady. Then his mouth touched hers, and Gabrielle had never felt such relief, such passion. That kiss was all she remembered and more, so much more.
Her fears evaporated, gone as Eric’s familiar taste invaded her senses, one she would never forget. Gabrielle held him close and allowed herself to drown in his kiss. Beside her, she felt André’s presence, and wanted him as well. Wanted to see him again, to drink in his handsome face.
Eric must have sensed this, for he broke the kiss but still held her close. His hands were warm on her face as he cupped her cheeks and rested his forehead against hers. Gabrielle turned to look at André, started for him.
Her legs buckled, and Gabrielle let out a sobbing laugh. André closed the distance between them. His mouth covered hers, warm and demanding. Caught between her lovers, as she longed to be, Gabrielle felt the near perfection of this moment.
André’s warm brown eyes held hers, caressing her face. Beneath her hand, his strong chest felt real and solid. The fingers of one hand brushed down the side of her cheek and sent a tingle of awareness through her.
She couldn’t believe they stood before her, that she could see them, touch them. Taste them. Gabrielle had long believed the last time she’d ever see them was the night Theodore had abducted her from the Club. And the last thing she knew about them would be their names, haphazardly scribbled on a makeshift tombstone.
But that had changed yesterday when she saw Eric.
Standing here both her men holding her, Gabrielle vowed never to part from them again. She would not lose them again.
André’s hands slipped down her arms, back up over her shoulders. He alternately held her close and simply looked at her. Eric stood behind her, warm hands on her back. Steady. Unable to tear her gaze from André, Gabrielle reached behind her and tugged Eric closer. She needed to see them both at once. Fell them, touch them.
“What happened that night?” André demanded.
Chapter Four
André needed to know where she’d been these last two years. What happened that night remained a mystery no matter how many enquiries he and Eric had made. Gabrielle had simply gone. He knew Theodore had to have taken her, but they’d never found her again.
One moment, she’d been safely ensconced in the Club—the next she’d vanished from their lives.
The three of them had been introduced to the Hellfire Club once they’d reached their majority. Instead of
indulging in all the various pleasures to be had within its hidden walls, the three of them had gravitated toward each other.
Amidst the chaos found on the streets, and a different kind in the Club, they’d found a safe haven in each other’s arms. That night, the night she’d disappeared, their haven had been broken.
Gabrielle hadn’t answered him immediately, but in her cobalt gaze he saw the softness and fear. In there, he saw his pain reflected.
“You must have guessed,” she said quietly. “Theodore took me. All but dragged me from the Club that night. I couldn’t turn back, couldn’t find you. He said the Club had been betrayed, and any moment the National Police would raid it; we’d all be arrested.”
She paused, and André heard more in her tone than her words implied. What had her miserable brother put her through these last years? What had he said to her, done to her in the ensuing years?
“I swear to you both,” she said fiercely. “I did everything in my power to escape him. To warn you about the police raid.”
Her hand drifted to her upper arm and drifted over the inside of her elbow. André couldn’t see it, not yet, but knew her body bore the effects of Theodore’s rage.
“We went to Theodore’s old townhouse, but didn’t stay there long. The National Police and their spies were everywhere; we couldn’t stay anyplace for long.” She paused and André’s rage built. He knew what her next words were and hated he hadn’t been there to protect her.
“You were imprisoned,” André guessed.
“Not immediately,” she whispered. “But yes. Theodore moved us from house to house until we stayed at the wrong one.”
“How long were you in prison?” Eric asked.
André looked sharply up at his lover. Rage burned just below Eric’s normally placid blue eyes. Looking back at Gabrielle, André tried to temper his anger, but knew he failed. She’d always been able to easily read him and despite the two years they’d been separated he doubted that had changed.
Gabrielle shook her head and smiled up at him. Memory from her time there shadowed her gaze and she shook. Whether from their meeting today or the reminder of her past, André couldn’t be certain.
If he ever saw Theodore Bertrand again, he vowed to kill the man.
“Just over six months,” she admitted, eyes closed.
André wrapped his arms around her and held her. He had no words of comfort, nothing he could say that would make that better. Eric met his gaze and again André saw the same emotions reflected there. The other man shook his head and moved closer. He wrapped his arm around Gabrielle.
They should have done more to find her. André couldn’t have said what; they spent the last two years searching for her. Every resource the Club had, they exploited all for naught. Until the chance meeting yesterday afternoon, neither of them had had any luck locating their lover.
“I don’t know how, but somehow Theodore arranged our release into General Fortier’s care.” Her voice was muffled, but she made no move to distance herself from their embrace. “The next I knew, the general wanted to marry me.”
André stiffened, wanted to pull back and look at her, but Gabrielle went on. “He isn’t a bad man, the general,” she said in a rush. “And his two grown daughters are very kind to me. I like them very much. But I never wanted that life, that family.” She did pull back then and turned so she could see the both of them. “I only wanted to find the two of you.”
André kissed her. He wanted to reassure her they’d protect her now. Wanted to say he’d take care of Theodore; that she’d never have to see the general again. He could feel Eric move, knew what the other man wanted. He kissed down the side of Gabrielle’s neck, knew Eric did the same.
Gabrielle shuddered in their arms, and André feared they rushed her. What else had she gone through? What had Theodore forced her to do to save his miserable ass?
“We’ll find a way to leave France,” Eric promised. He took her chin in his hand and made sure he had her complete attention. “You will come with us?”
She kissed him, leaving no room for doubt. “Yes.”
Eric kissed her forehead and took a step back. “Give me a bit of time,” he said. “I’ve arranged for less conspicuous clothing so you can move more freely about the city.” He kissed her again and nodded to André. “I’ll return shortly.”
André waited until he heard the door close behind Eric. The millenary was owned by a member of the Club, so they were safe as far as privacy went. Still, despite its reputation as a sex club with the occasional political maneuver tossed in, André had never met a bigger group of gossips than inhabited the Hellfire Club. The only thing that stifled their gossiping propensities was the constant threat of discovery by fanatical Revolutionaries.
He led Gabrielle to a small worktable and the single chair. Though he wanted to take her there, feel her move against him, hear her sighs of completion, André forced himself to settle for another kiss.
“It hasn’t been the same without you,” he admitted. His hand cupped her cheek, thumb running over the smooth softness of it. “We’ve missed you, Gabrielle…I’ve missed you.”
She smiled, a faint answer to his statement, and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you, too.”
But she hesitated just enough for him to catch it, then glanced down, away from his gaze. André’s heart tightened at her response, and for a moment he wondered what had happened in the last years. What she’d been through. They’d all changed; they’d all had to in order to survive this new Paris.
In the aftermath of her hesitation, André waited for more, but none was forthcoming. Rather than bombard her with questions, demand a detailed history of her time spent away from he and Eric, André simply nodded. He didn’t wish to push her, refused to now that they’d just got her back.
“All I wanted this entire time,” Gabrielle said straightening from his touch, “since Theodore told me you and Eric had died, was to find your graves. I wanted to feel close to you one more time.”
She touched his face, light fingertips on his cheek; still hesitant, still uncertain. But her voice grew stronger with every word, and her gaze never wavered from his. “I never dreamed, never dared hope until Eric stood before me that you both still breathed.”
“Two years is a long time,” André whispered. His hand caught hers and held it against his face. He dreaded asking this next question, but had to know; needed to before they went any further. “Do you love him?”
Gabrielle blinked at him, stunned. He could see the confusion in her cobalt eyes, the surprise overriding all other emotions. Her head tilted to one side, as she studied him, and he swore she looked as if she wanted to protest the question. Refusing to give up, however, André wouldn’t let himself believe any answer until she said the words.
“Eric told me,” André said, “that you were engaged. Do you love him?”
“Oh!” She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. “General Fortier.”
Steeling himself for her admission, André waited. He didn’t release her hand, but his fingers tightened on hers. Gabrielle held his gaze and smiled. It was that same soft smile she used to give him after they made love, or when she saw him across the room at the Club.
“No.” Her voice firmed, and when she nodded this time, the move was decisive. “I don’t. Never for a moment. My engagement,” Gabrielle paused but this time André didn’t sense hesitation, more that she gathered her words.
He wondered about the truth of the matter. What she clearly didn’t wish to tell him.
“Theodore arranged my engagement,” she admitted. “As far as I know,” she continued, voice cracking, “he did it in exchange for our release from prison.”
André stilled. His fingers tightened on hers for the barest of heartbeats before he dropped them. He didn’t want to hurt her, would never hurt her.
The sound of his heart pounding in his ears blocked all else out, and he very carefully took a deep breath and blanked his face from all em
otion. Stepping back, André held himself stiff and tried to form words. Tried to ask her for more. He clenched his jaw, knowing that the instant he opened his mouth, soothing words were not what he’d say to his beloved lover.
So he took another moment and watched her. Gabrielle barely met his eyes, looking at him then glancing away. As if she had aught to be ashamed of. Theodore on the other hand, had much to answer for.
André was going to throttle that man.
Slowly opening hands that had curled into fists, he shook his head and focused on Gabrielle. What had Theodore demanded of her? What had he forced her to do—while in prison, afterwards, or with the general? What had she done to survive these last two years? And would she ever tell them?
Fear made his blood ice, and visions of what she’d endured crowded his mind’s eye. André knew what went on in Robespierre’s prisons. Rumors were ripe, but beyond that he knew several people who had experienced the brutality first hand. They never said how they’d made it through, or even how they’d come to be released. They hadn’t needed to.
Gabrielle’s admission that Theodore sold her to a general for their freedom didn’t surprise André. Theodore had always been a coward, intent on saving his own ass at the expense of anyone else’s. Even, especially, his sister’s.
The fact that it didn’t surprise André did not make Theodore’s actions more palpable.
“We still want you, Gabrielle,” he promised and didn’t miss the relief in her blue eyes. “I’ve never let you go....neither of us has.”
Before she could react, before she could do anything, André kissed her. Every day that passed, every night spent without her, every morning he woke only to remember she was not in their bed. He poured it all into his kiss. And when she kissed him back, when she opened to him, accepted him, André wondered if this moment was real or if he dreamed of her again.
The Escape Page 3